


Operation Little Red Riding Cas

by Dean-Bangs-Cas-In-The-Impala (Maknatuna)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Action, And Dean hates Cas' cat, Bottom Cas, Cas has a bamf cat, Drama, Dubious Consent, Humour, Kidnapping, M/M, Romance, Sneaky Cas, Spanking, Top Dean, Werewolf Dean, criminal, tooth rotting fluff at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-03
Updated: 2014-04-30
Packaged: 2018-01-14 10:32:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 17,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1263010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maknatuna/pseuds/Dean-Bangs-Cas-In-The-Impala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel Novak is a bothersome reporter from a local newspaper, who has compromising evidence against a mob boss named Crowley, known as The King of Hell.  Dean Winchester, who works for Crowley is commanded to get rid of Novak.  His plan to charm and lure the victim into a trap fails, when the sneaky reporter vanishes from the bar where they meet. But the thing Castiel does not know is that Dean is a werewolf and he remembers his scent, enabling him to find the gorgeous but impudent reporter, no matter where he goes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for your help with beta reading this fic: fallingslowlyintheimpala, bethanyyerinn, zarauthforsaken, Zana Zira and Beccarez.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art by: cinnamon-head.tumblr.com
> 
> Thank you so much! You are amazing <3 <3 <3

                                                                 

Dean is fixing his Baby, bent over and hands covered in oil, when his cell phone starts to ring in his pocket. The young man jumps, startled, hitting his head against the hood of the Impala and swearing loudly.

“Dammit!” the green-eyed man exclaims angrily, fishing out the cell phone.

The screen is flashing the caller ID and Dean better answer it if he doesn't want to get into trouble.

“Yes, boss, what can I do for you?” His voice sounding official and respectful.

“Get your arse over here, right now!” A thick, British accent sounds from the cell phone before disconnecting the call.

Dean sighs and wipes his hands on a rag. He had been planning to finish fixing the Impala and it seems like he will need a few more hours for it. His Baby can wait, which cannot be said about his boss, The King of Hell, also known as Fergus Crowley. The man is a sly and very clever bastard, terrifying and in control of the whole of New York City.

They're currently in Lakewood, Ohio, where Crowley had been meeting a business partner for the deal of the year. A gut feeling tells Dean that something must have gone wrong, as Crowley had sounded pissed as fuck on the phone. He sighs and shuffles towards the bathroom to get cleaned up and get ready for the meeting with his boss.

Unlike the old, small house which Dean has rented, Crowley’s place looks like a freaking Sultan’s palace; everything’s gold and shiny, with massive marble columns and a small fountain inside the suite. Where the hell did he even find this place?

Dean’s jaw is still on the floor, staring wide eyed at the heavenly place occupied by his boss, when Crowley snaps fingers in front of his nose.

“Earth to Moon, do you copy?”

Dean starts, coming to his senses and coughing awkwardly. “Sorry about that, boss.”

Crowley shakes his head, mumbling something about how he’s surrounded by bloody morons and walks up to the table with exotic fruits on it. “Come here,” he calls Dean. “I want to show you something.”

There is a fresh issue of the local newspaper laying near the vase of fruits. “See this?” Crowley taps his finger on it.

Dean takes the newspaper, looking at the photos on the front page. There are six images of Crowley and his business partner, meeting at an abandoned warehouse, shaking hands and laughing, then getting into their fancy cars and driving off. The title of the article shouts in bold letters: “THE DEAL OF THE YEAR BETWEEN TWO MAFIA CLANS.” The article is written by Castiel Novak.

So that’s why Crowley was so pissed. And Dean wouldn’t blame him. They had been so careful, measuring each and every step, trying not to draw any attention. How the hell did this reporter find their whereabouts and then taken the photos?

“I want him dead!” Crowley shouts, startling a bird in a cage near one of the windows. “I want you to kill him. But torture him first!”

The King of Hell takes something out of his expensive suits inner pocket and throws it on the table. More photos, but there are no Crowley or his business partner in them. It’s a young man with dark, almost black hair and piercing blue eyes. Dean’s mouth instantly waters; the guy is just sex on legs, and exactly his type.

“So, this is Castiel Novak?” Dean’s voice sounds hoarse and he clears his throat.

Crowley gives him a funny look and if he guesses something, doesn’t show it. “Yes, it's him. I'll give you until the end of this week.”

“Right. It'll be done,” Dean nods, staring at the photos where Castiel is clad in tight black jeans and a red hooded sweater.

“Good. I'm sure you will do your job perfectly, like you always do.” Crowley taps him on the shoulder. “Come on, let’s drink this champagne.” The British man pours the icy-cold drink into glasses and hands one to Dean. “Any ideas for a toast?”

“Um…” Dean scratches his head. “Yeah, actually. I have an idea.”

“And what would that be?” Crowley’s curiosity picks up.

Dean grins wide and raises his glass. “To operation Little Red Riding Cas.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

Dean finds out after work that Castiel likes to hang out at Purple Rainbow bar. It's a local gay bar – always overcrowded and full of loud music and nice drinks.

After he finally finishes fixing the Impala, Dean decides to go there and wait for Castiel. He already has a plan. A simple but functional plan that he's used in past. He puts on a black V-neck t-shirt, which emphasizes his chest and muscles nicely, and his favorite jeans, which fit perfectly and make his perky butt look yummy. Dean tucks his Colt Mustang XSP in the waistband of his jeans and heads out to get his victim.

As always, the bar is congested and Dean is met with a loud, rhythmical beat pouring out of the speakers and couples roaming around like busy ants.

The young man – or werewolf, to be precise – notices a few vacant places near the bar counter and walks to it hurriedly to take a seat.

"Hey," he says with a smile to the barman, a young man in his mid twenties with smokey eyes and shining lip gloss.

"What can I get you, sugar?" The barman asks sweetly, eating Dean with his eyes.

"Um… Just double Whiskey with some ice." Dean doesn't pay much attention to the barman's flirting and checks his watch. Castiel should be here soon. Of course if he doesn't have any other plans for the evening.

"Waiting for someone?" The barman looks slightly disappointed.

"Yeah, should be here any minute." Dean sips his drink.

Dean is spinning the glass in his hand when he smells it. He stops watching a couple that are humping and grinding against each other on the dance floor, raises his head and sniffs the air. The smell is rich, delicious, and alluring. It's sweet, so heady it makes Dean's blood boil. Something in Dean's body stirs and surfaces from the depths. He realizes that it's arousal.

The smell is getting near. Dean has to bite his bottom lip to suppress a growl. The young werewolf stands up, turning towards the crowd of dancing people, searching for the person this scent belongs to. He takes a few steps, trying to recognize the owner of this smell, when he hears someone talking behind his back:

"Yes, that's right. The article is almost ready. I'll show it to you tomorrow morning."

Hearing this gruff, deep voice makes Dean whirl around and bump into a stranger, almost knocking him off his feet. It's none other than Castiel Novak. The poor guy shouts, startled by being bumped, and drops the cell phone he's holding.

"Shit, I'm sorry man, I didn't mean to scare you. Or knock into you at all, really," Dean says remorsefully, raising his hands apologetically.

"It's alright. Don't worry about it." Intense blue eyes are staring at the werewolf and Dean can't help but gape at the reporter before him. This guy is really gorgeous, even better looking in reality than in photos: pale skin, blue eyes, full pink lips, and messy hair.

"I'm Dean. What's your name?" he asks, picking up the cell phone and handing it to its owner.

"My name is Castiel," Novak answers, putting the cell phone into his pocket.

"Nice to meet you, Cas." Dean puts on his best seductive smirk, reaching his hand out and shaking Castiel's.

Castiel smiles at hearing the nickname Dean has just given him. "Likewise."

"If you don't mind, I'd like to buy you a drink," Dean rasps, besotted from Castiel's scent. He's having a hard time concentrating on his mission.

"No, I don't mind. Beer would be good." Castiel nods and they both take seats at the bar counter.

"So, tell me about yourself. Who are you, what do you do?" Dean turns to face Castiel, licking his lips. Maybe he should bang this guy before killing him. Yeah, why not?

"I'm a reporter from the local newspaper. I have a boring life, there's nothing much I can say about myself. What about you, Dean?" Castiel tilts his head to the side, looking at the werewolf curiously.

"Well, I'm a mechanic. I love to fix old cars and listen to hard rock. Also, I like brunets with blue eyes." He winks at Novak, making him blush.

"Sounds good." Castiel clears his throat. "Come here often?"

"Actually this is the first time I've been here, but I like it." Dean clicks his tongue, emptying his glass of Whiskey.

"Yes, this place is nice, and people are very friendly," Novak agrees.

The werewolf changes the subject. "So, do you like your job?"

"Can't complain. They pay well and I like to write exclusive articles," Castiel answers simply, not sensing anything suspicious.

"Oh, really?" Dean leans forward with great interest. "Exclusive articles? Like what?"

Castiel catches overenthusiastic notes in Dean's voice and turns to face him. His brows furrow when his subconscious sends him a signal to be careful.

"Just some compromising evidence against famous people. Um, are you wearing contacts? Your eyes just turned yellow." Castiel points at the werewolf's eyes.

Dean curses silently. Of course they would turn yellow. They always turn yellow when he's aroused and excited.

"Yeah, they react to light and turn yellow. The newest version. I like to impress," Dean states with a cocky smirk.

Castiel chuckles. "I've never heard of that. Well, it was nice to meet you, Dean, but I should go. I have an article to finish for tomorrow morning."

"No, no, please don't go," Dean objects. "I would really love to dance with you. Just one dance. I'll let you go after the dance, I promise."

Castiel is hesitant for a few seconds, but then agrees. "Alright, just one dance."

Once they get out onto the dance floor, they don't end up dancing, not really. More like they are almost fucking with their clothes on. Dean leads the dance and Castiel follows his lead without any complaints. The werewolf has the reporter pressed against his chest, hands grabbing Castiel's hips while the brunet grinds his ass against Dean's crotch with agonizingly slow movements. If it could speak, Dean's dick would surely damn him to hell.

By the time the song is over, Dean is panting heavily, sweating and biting his lip, trying to control his wolf nature as not to fuck Castiel right on the dance floor.

"Cas." The werewolf's voice is raspy and full of need. "Let's go to the restroom. I want you. Fuck, I never wanted anyone as much as I want you."

Castiel turns around, puts his hands on Dean's shoulders, and leans forward to whisper into the werewolf's ear:

"You go first; I'll join you in a minute. I need to talk to the bartender for a minute."

Dean catches Castiel's lips in a quick, messy, but delicious kiss and Novak bucks his hips, moaning into the werewolf's mouth.

"Yeah, sure. Just don't keep me waiting." He squeezes the reporter's hip and heads to the men's room.

"Of course, Dean." Castiel smiles slyly, watching Dean's frame disappear in the crowd.

* * *

When Castiel doesn't show up after fifteen minutes and it becomes clear that he's been fooled like a child, enraged roaring shakes the walls of the men's room, where in one of the bathroom stalls Dean Winchester is standing with his pants and boxers pulled down to his ankles and a raging hard-on in his hand.

"I swear, I'll get you for this! God help you, you're so gonna regret this!"

Dean does not give a fuck if there are people in the restroom, because he's fuming with rage.

"You're gonna wish you'd never been born, Castiel Novak!" He growls and starts to stroke his dick furiously, trying to bring himself off.


	3. Chapter 3

Dean is tortured by insomnia. It's been four hours since he's gone to bed and he hasn’t been able to close his eyes for even a few minutes. Well, as he’s a werewolf, it can't cause him serious disorders, but it’s still unpleasant. Every time he tries to sleep, he sees those piercing blue eyes and chapped, full lips.

The moon is full and his wolf nature is strong. It's rioting and raging. He has to find Castiel and teach him a good lesson before taking his life. Dean still has a lot of time ‘til the end of the week, before Castiel has to be dead, so he’s not in hurry. He knows that he needs to get some rest and keep a cool head. But it's a really difficult task.

Dean tosses and turns in bed restlessly. Exasperation and frustration almost drive him crazy. He just can't take it anymore and quickly jumps out of his bed, hurriedly putting jeans on and running outside of the house, heading towards the nearest park.

The full moon is casting yellow light over the park, giving it a mystical look. Dean closes the door of the Impala and bends down to unlace his boots. He takes his shoes and socks off and walks barefoot on the wet grass, drops of dew glittering on it. White, thick fog seductively beckons the werewolf and the young man inhales sharply, moving forward.

With closed eyes and head tilted back, Dean slowly walks towards fir trees, feeling the night chill on his bare chest and arms. The wet grass feels soothing against his feet and Dean lets out a satisfied moan.

Suddenly he stops in front one of the trees. His nostrils flare and his hands turn into fists. A low, guttural growl escapes his throat and the werewolf leans forward to smell the tree. It has Castiel's scent on it. But how is that possible?

Dean's mind feverishly seeks the answer, sniffing the air around him. Maybe Castiel has passed through this park? Maybe he likes to take long walks in these woods? Dean will definitely find out, but not now. Later.

The werewolf buries his face in the tree, sniffing it frantically, hands scratching the tree trunk. "I want you, Castiel. I want to touch and kiss you all over. I want to feel you tremble in my arms. But I will still kill you, you sneaky bastard," Dean groans.

His forehead is covered in sweat and his breath is coming out in short gasps. "And I want to hear you moaning my name while I take you." Dean doesn't realize when he starts to hump the tree.

Lonesome and pitiful howling breaks the silence of the night.

* * *

Castiel is clenching the bed sheets and whimpering in his sleep.

"Please Dean, oh…" he moans desperately. He turns to the side and hisses. "Harder… Please …nghh", he lets out a wanton moan and arches his back off the bed.

That's when he hears a howling through his dream. It’s so intense that Castiel immediately wakes up, gasping for air.

"Wow, you’re lucky that I'm dreaming about you, Dean", he chuckles, shaking his head disbelievingly. "And if not for your overly intense curiosity, who knows? Maybe we could've had a thing back at the bar."

Novak wipes his forehead and goes to look through the window. The park is not far away from his house. He stares at the tree silhouettes, not knowing what he is searching for. The blood-curdling howling sounds again. Castiel's skin covers in goosebumps, and he starts getting a bad feeling.

"Since when do we have wolves in this city?" he whispers and puts his hand against the window glass. No one answers his question and Castiel sighs, shuffling towards his bed.

* * *

 

Dean decides to follow Castiel's scent, as it’s getting stronger with every step he takes. Soon he reaches the road, leading to a quiet suburb. After a short while, Dean finds himself in a narrow street with small, neat houses. The werewolf can sense Castiel's scent in the air, but it is combined with lots of other smells and it’s confusing.

The one thing Dean knows for sure is that Castiel lives here somewhere. He will return here tomorrow, find out the reporter's exact address, and get his prey. Of course he could go to Castiel's office and get the necessary information from there, but Dean doesn't want to draw extra attention to himself, so he will choose the other option.

And in the end, it doesn't matter which option he chooses. Castiel Novak will be his.


	4. Chapter 4

As planned, Dean returns to the place the next evening, looking at houses, trying to figure out where exactly Castiel lives.

"Very well, Cas. Remember that payback's gonna be a bitch," Dean growls, cracking his knuckles.

The werewolf looks around and notices an old lady walking her dog, a nervous looking white poodle. He puts his best smile on and slowly approaches her.

"Good evening, ma'am. I’m sorry to trouble you, but I’m trying to find my friend. He lives here somewhere. We studied together at the college."

"Oh, good evening to you too, young man. And what is your friend's name?" she kindly smiles at him.

"His name is Castiel Novak."

"Do you mean that nice, young man with blue eyes and messy hair?" she asks.

"Yes, exactly!" Dean's voice sounds one octave higher in excitement and he quickly clears his throat.

"Of course, I know. That boy is very precious. He's very polite and always ready to help. We love him dearly in this neighborhood." The lady is too talkative and Dean is losing his patience. "His father died two years ago and the poor child is all alone now. There's his house," she says finally and points at a small, light blue colored house to her left side.

"Thank you very much for your help." Dean grins stupidly at her. “And nice dog,” he added, giving it a scratch.

"You are welcome", the woman says and resumes her walking.

Dean laughs, feeling content, and heads back to his house to make necessary arrangements for the next stage of the plan.

* * *

Castiel can't sleep. He closes his book and puts it on the bedside table, sighing deeply. No matter what he does, his mind is occupied with images of Dean's face.

"Maybe I made a mistake when I left the bar?" he whispers. "Maybe it would've been better if I had stayed? He was probably really upset."

Castiel buries his face in his hands. "I think I’m getting a crush", he groans and moves the comforter aside. The blue-eyed man crawls out of his bed, looking at the clock. It's 4 am.

"Oh, great", Castiel mutters and decides to take a shower. He quickly reaches the bathroom, taking his sweatpants and boxers off and moves the shower curtain aside.

The warm water feels nice against his skin. Castiel takes a soap bar and foams himself. He inhales its rich coconut smell, closing his eyes. His imagination instantly sends him an image of those green eyes and a smug smile.

"Dean," Castiel groans in a low voice as his hands start to slide up and down his body, rinsing the soap off.

Castiel's fantasies get more intense when imaginary Dean locks his mouth with Novak's, groping and squeezing his ass.

"Mmm…" Castiel moans again and grabs his painfully erect member. He starts with slow strokes, panting and increasing the speed after a short while.

Castiel comes crying out Dean's name. He quickly rinses his hair, removing the remaining shampoo, and takes a deep breath. When he feels he's got enough strength, Castiel steps out of the shower and wraps a white, fluffy towel around his waist.

With unsteady steps, he returns to his bedroom. As soon as Castiel enters the room, he jumps from wild fear and yelps as strong arms hold him in a vice grip from behind. The young man doesn't need to turn his head to see who it is. He recognizes the voice immediately, growling into his ear: "Hi, Cas. Did you miss me?"

Seconds later, Castiel is carried to the bed and laid on his stomach.

"Dean? How did you get into my house? What are you doing? Let me go!"

His shouts of protests are ignored and Castiel decides to change his tactics. "I’m sorry. Please, let me go and we can forget that this ever happened."

But the werewolf is too busy tying his hands behind his back with a rope.

"I never intended to upset you. I’m sorry. Please, don't do this." Castiel starts to tremble, hope quickly fading. He's never felt so frightened in his life.

"You know what, Cas?" Dean flips him over. "One, jerking off while thinking about me sure is damn hot and I'm pleased about it, but it won't save you." The werewolf winks at him. "And two, you talk too much." With these words, he takes a silk scarf out of the pocket and gags his victim.

As soon as he finishes tying and gagging Castiel, Dean looks down at the reporter, who is staring at him in shock, blue eyes wide open. Dean can see the tears forming. For a second he almost changes his mind, but then he remembers why he’s here.

"You can keep the towel on. For a while.” He smirks. "I guess everyone is ready. Let's go then." Dean bends down and grabs his prey.

Despite Castiel's weak resistance, which consists of kicking, wriggling, and muffled shouts, Dean easily picks him up and throws over his shoulder, patting the reporter's ass.

"Oh, I feel so sorry for this lovely part," he laughs ominously and exits the bedroom.

The werewolf walks down the stairs with a cheerful whistling, which from time to time is replaced by laughing when Castiel desperately tries to kick him. "Stop struggling. You can't escape. You're mine."

Dean opens the front door, going outside. He goes to the Impala with his precious burden and opens the trunk. The werewolf gingerly puts Castiel in the trunk, giving him a wicked smile.

"See you soon, handsome."

The trunk closes and Castiel finds himself in total darkness.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: Some good, old fashioned spanking *evil smirk*  
> 

Castiel doesn't know how long they've been driving. He has other, more important problems. He has no idea what Dean is planning to do to him, but it's not hard to guess that it's not going to be very pleasant.

Castiel desperately tugs at the rope but can’t free his hands. Dean has made sure the knot is tight. Novak can feel his fingers going numb. The oxygen is quickly draining away and he feels dizzy. He vaguely feels how the car stops, its door slamming. The last thing he sees is the trunk opening and Dean looking at him. Castiel's eyes flutter and he sinks into unconsciousness.

Dean immediately picks him up, holding him tight to his chest. Castiel's head limply presses to his shoulder as wet locks tickle the kidnapper's neck.

"Shit!" Dean snarls and almost runs towards the house. He quickly reaches it and storms into his bedroom, laying the smaller man on his king size bed. Dean removes the gag and unties Castiel's hands. At this point, he’s not so sure that he wants to kill the poor guy.

"Hey, c'mon, open your eyes!" Dean starts to slap him lightly in the face.

Castiel moans and opens his eyes. As soon as his eyes flutter open, he instinctively swings his hand, punching Dean hard in the jaw. The hit is so strong that it almost cracks the bone. Dean sees sparks dancing in front of his eyes and he growls ominously. Castiel instantly regrets what he did and crawls up the bed towards the headboard. Dean's breath becomes ragged and his eyes narrow.

"No one punches Dean Winchester!" he snarls and grasps Castiel's ankles, yanking him down.

"You deserved it! You kidnapped me! Let me go!" Novak shouts and struggles to free his feet from Dean's grip.

"And you deserve all of this for what you've done to me!" Dean yells. In the blink of an eye he sits on the bed and pulls Castiel over his lap. "I told you that you would regret it." With these words Dean grabs Castiel's towel and throws it aside.

Castiel's mouth goes dry and he makes some choking sounds. "Wha… what are you doing, Dean?" he asks in a broken voice.

"Punishing you for misbehaving," answers the werewolf. "Mmm, so lovely," he murmurs, patting the reporter's exposed butt.

"Please don't do this," Castiel flails, trying his best to break free from the werewolf's hands. "This isn’t necessary."

Dean laughs. "Oh, believe me, sweetheart, it's more than necessary. It will teach you not to lie anymore."

The first blow catches Castiel off guard; it stings like a bitch. Castiel bites his lip, suppressing a cry. The next couple of blows make him gasp.

"I’m sorry for what I've done and I learned my lesson," Castiel exclaims, feeling more pain as Dean's blows get harder.

"Not done yet."

After twenty-five blows, Castiel's butt is a deep scarlet color, Dean's hand prints on both cheeks. The sight gives the werewolf an instant erection, which uncomfortably presses to his jeans.

"Ten more and I'm done." Dean's voice sounds deeper than usual and huskier.

The last five are the bitterest and Castiel shouts. It seems that Dean is using more power than necessary and it's painful. Had Novak been a werewolf it wouldn't be as painful as it is now, but he's human and he can't help it when a few broken sobs escape his mouth. Castiel fights with all his strength to free himself, but Dean is effectively holding him in place. Castiel feels tears of desperation and anger rolling down his face as he tries not scream in agony. His ass is on fire thanks to Dean's hand.

The punishment is over, but Castiel does not move from Dean's lap. His body is shaking in nervous tremors; when Dean turns him over he can see tear stains on the reporter's cheeks.

"Is this what you wanted? To humiliate me by punishing like a naughty child? If so, congratulations, you've got what you wanted." Castiel stares at him without blinking. "Now take me back to my house and forget my name. As for me, I’ll try to pretend it was just a horrible nightmare."

Dean stands up, picks up Castiel's towel and throws it back at him. The blue-eyed man quickly wraps himself up in it, crawling away from Dean as far as possible. The werewolf doesn't miss how Castiel trembles. The temperature in the house is warm, so it can't be caused by cold.

"I can't do that," Dean answers simply. "I have other orders."

"Orders? What orders? What are you talking about?" Castiel stops shivering, looking at Dean with frightened eyes. Oh, how he doesn't like where this is going.

"Castiel Novak," Dean begins, startling the reporter with his icy-cold voice. "You will not leave this house alive. I have been ordered to kill you."

"No," Castiel whispers, turning deathly pale. "No, no this can't be true. But why? What did I do?"

"Your little article pissed off my boss. I’m sorry, but I can't let you live." Dean pulls his gun out, pointing it at Castiel.

Dead silence falls in the room. The only noise breaking it is Castiel's labored breaths as he stares at the gun aimed at him.


	6. Chapter 6

It's a good thing for Dean that Castiel isn’t a mind reader, because there are a lot of stormy, conflicting thoughts racing through the werewolf's head. The hand holding the gun pointed at Castiel is not faltering and Dean wears the mask of a cold-blooded killer, but it does not at all reflect what he feels underneath.

Why the fuck did Castiel have to write the bloody article? Why the hell didn't he stay away from Crowley? Why did he take those damn photos?

"Dean…" Castiel's broken, pleading voice snaps the werewolf out of his inner struggle. "Please don't do this."

The green-eyed man swallows hard, shifting from one foot to the other. "Shut up, just shut up," he barks, feeling panic spreading fast through his body. If he doesn't pull the trigger now, he won't be able to kill the reporter later.

Dean jumps slightly when his cell phone rings, losing his grip for an instant. Castiel knows that it's his last chance and when Dean pulls out his cell phone, looking at the caller ID, the blue-eyed man grabs the lamp from the nightstand and strikes Dean's hand with all his strength, making the kidnapper drop the gun. But Castiel is not satisfied with one hit and he smashes the lamp over Dean's head. Before the werewolf stands up from the floor, Castiel kicks the gun, throwing it under the bed. Dean will have to turn it over to retrieve the weapon, but Castiel doesn't wait to see, as he is running out of the bedroom and towards the front door. He needs to hurry and leave this Hell house before Dean chases after him.

Castiel is only a few feet from the door when he trips over an empty beer bottle, thudding to the floor painfully.

Dean is swearing loudly, already in the doorway, when a blood-curdling scream makes him freeze to the spot where he stands. His stomach churns and guts twist when he smells blood, along with a tremendous amount of pain and fear.

"What the hell?" Dean mumbles as he takes cautious steps towards Castiel, who is lying and writhing on the floor. He can't see the reporter's face, as Castiel is on his belly, flailing and trying in vain to get up.

As Dean gets nearer, he understands why Castiel can't get up: there is a 5 inch long nail pierced through the reporter's hand. The sight almost makes Dean nauseous. There is small puddle of blood around Castiel's hand and the poor guy is so lost and confused and probably in shock that he can't free his hand. He just keeps tugging at it towards himself, not realizing that all he needs to do is slide it off of the nail.

Castiel senses someone's presence by his side and turns his head. He doesn't know who he is expecting there to see, but when he meets the pair of green eyes his efforts to break free get desperate and chaotic, and Dean is sure that the guy will surely mutilate his hand even more if he doesn't do something about it.

"Get away from me!" Castiel shouts desperately. "No! Don't touch me!" His shouts turn into sobs when pain gets excruciating.

"Stop wriggling, you dumbass," Dean tells him calmly. "You'll make it worse." He quickly locks the front door, putting the keys into his pocket. Then he storms into the kitchen, taking out a small bottle and a clean cloth.

When he returns to the living room he sees that Castiel is kneeling and his hand is halfway off of the nail. It must be very painful judging from the whimpers and choked sobs he's making.

"Stop it!" Dean shouts at him, noticing a small shred of flesh hanging down Castiel's hand. "Let me do it, you idiot."

"Get the fuck away from me!" Castiel screams at him, baring his teeth in a feral snarl.

Dean has had enough of the reporter's bullshit. He approaches him hurriedly from behind and presses a wet cloth to his nose. Castiel struggles for a few seconds but then his eyes roll back into his head and the brunet falls down on the floor. Yeah, chloroform is always useful.

Dean takes Castiel's injured hand, gingerly removing it from the nail. It's old and rusty and there is a high risk of Castiel getting an infection or worse. Not so long ago Dean wouldn't give a fuck but seeing the reporter so helpless and fighting for his life has Dean doubting his motives and the command from Crowley.

After a short bit of hesitation, the werewolf brings Castiel's hand to his mouth and starts to lick the wound. His saliva will kill any bacteria, preventing them from spreading. Castiel's blood tastes so sweet and heady that the werewolf feels dizzy. He whines pitifully, leaning down and smelling the unconscious Castiel. No, this guy will definitely be the death of him. Does it matter what will cause his death, blue balls or Crowley?

Dean shakes his head, trying to sober up, and picks up the reporter's limp body. He returns to the bedroom, once again laying Castiel down on the bed. He quickly rummages through the drawer and finds some cotton and elastic crepe bandage.

When Castiel wakes up, he feels that someone is treating his wound. He has a throbbing pain in his palm and a bursting headache when he hears someone's deep voice:

"Wakey wakey, princess." Of course it's Dean and the brunet gasps in fear.

Castiel wants to sit up but Dean's hand holds him down. "Nah, bad idea."

"What are you doing?" Castiel is staring at his kidnapper with wide eyes, breathing heavily.

"Isn't it obvious?" Dean smirks, continuing bandaging Castiel's hand.

"Yes, and that's why I am asking. Not so long ago you wanted to kill me," Castiel remarks.

"Do you want me to kill you?" The werewolf stops, staring at his victim. "Are you complaining?"

"No." Castiel's voice goes hoarse. "No I'm not. But why didn't you kill me? Why are you helping me?"

Dean finishes bandaging his hand, putting the cotton and the elastic bandage on the bedside table. He studies the reporter's face for a whole minute before answering.

"I changed my mind."


	7. Chapter 7

"Why did you change your mind?" Castiel asks curiously. Of course he's happy that the kidnapper has changed his mind about killing him, but his curiosity is too strong to resist.

"I can go back to plan A, you know." Dean smirks slightly when he notices Castiel turning pale. He finds scaring the reporter amusing. "Just shut up and don't ask stupid questions."

"I'm sorry," the brunet says suddenly. "I want to apologize for deceiving you back at the bar. And also about the lamp," Castiel's gaze falls down at the broken lamp.

"What about the article you wrote?" Dean chuckles. "Not feeling sorry for that one?"

"No," Castiel blurts out. "I was simply doing my job."

"I see," Dean nods. "I guess I'm failing then." The werewolf gets up from the bed, going towards the wardrobe. He rummages through it for a while and returns to Castiel.

"Here, put these on." Dean throws a black T-shirt, light blue jeans, boxers, and socks at the reporter, who is still wrapped up in his towel.

"Thank you," Castiel mumbles, nodding slightly.

"Do you have sisters or brothers?" Dean stares at Castiel while he's starting to get dressed. The t-shirt looks nice on his lithe body.

Castiel's surprised at the question, but hurries to answer. "My older sister lives in England. I haven't seen her for fifteen years. Though, we talk on phone sometimes. Actually, it's her house where I lived with our father before he died. Are you going to stare at me while I'm getting dressed?" Castiel frowns at Dean, who can't lift his gaze off the brunet's body.

"Yes," Dean rasps. "Do you mind?"

Castiel doesn't expect such impudence and gapes at the werewolf. He knows that he has to behave well and not make the host angry, therefore the brunet decides to play according Dean's rules.

"Um… No, I don't mind." Castiel blushes and pulls up the pants Dean has given him, zipping it with shaking fingers. It's slightly big for his size and reveals Castiel's hipbones, making them look so desirable that Dean has an urge to attack his prey and lick his hipbones 'til the brunet passes out.

"Good, because I wasn't planning to turn around." Dean licks his lips, fighting a feral growl that threatens to escape his throat.

"I-I think someone was calling you when I hit you with the lamp." Castiel scratches his head, trying to defuse this awkward situation.

"Shit," Dean pulls out the cell phone, going into 'missed calls'. "Oh, fuck me!" He rolls his eyes when he sees Crowley's number.

"What is it?" Castiel sits down on the bed, trying not to make any frantic movements, which might stir doubts in Dean's mind.

"It's my boss. Now, I want you to shut up or I'll gag you again. Can you do that?" Dean glares at the blue-eyed man.

"Yes. I'll be quiet," Castiel promises, swallowing nervously.

"Good." Dean dials Crowley's number, rubbing his forehead. Damn, he needs to be careful.

"Where the bloody hell were you, Winchester?" The thick, British accent yells in the cell phone and Castiel winces.

"Sorry boss, I was taking a bath and must've fallen asleep. I apologize once again," Dean tries his best to convince Crowley.

"Idiot," Crowley hisses into the phone. "Tell me about your progress with our little friend. Don't forget that you have only two days left."

Castiel notices how Dean clenches his fist, knuckles turning white. He can't hear what Crowley is saying to Dean, but judging from the kidnapper's reaction, it's something important.

"Yeah, I remember. I found out some important details that I needed. No worries, boss. It will be done." Dean forces himself to chuckle.

"Good. And I demand you show me proof," Crowley sips his drink. Probably Craig.

"Right, proof. Of course." Dean just wants this freakin' phone call to be over. "I will…" But Crowley has already disconnected the call.

"Are you alright?" Castiel asks cautiously, looking at Dean's frowning face.

The werewolf sighs and glances at his watch. It's already 4 am. Time has passed so quickly and he hadn't even noticed.

"Are you hungry?" Dean asks suddenly. "Because I am. Let's go." The host clearly shows that the brunet isn't to argue.

* * *

"So, you work for Crowley and he commanded you to kill me because I wrote the article." Castiel bites down on his slice of pizza.

"Yes," Dean answers reluctantly.

"How much time did he give you?"

"I have two more days." Dean leans against his chair. "He asked for proof too."

"I see," Castiel mutters under his breath. "What's the plan then?"

Dean taps his fingers on the table and takes a swig from the beer can. "You will have to leave the country. Just disappear, lay low. And for that you will need new documents."

"What?" Castiel almost chokes.

"You heard me, Cas. We need to get you out of the country." Dean leans forward, brushing his thumb over Castiel's lips, removing bits of mushroom.

"But how?" Castiel exclaims, bewildered, not paying attention to the unexpected touch.

"I'll arrange it." Dean smiles slightly. "Now look at me."

Before Castiel realizes what's happening, Dean snaps a photo of him with his cell phone.

"She will need it." Dean laughs at Castiel's puzzled expression.

"She? Who's _she_?" the brunet asks, confused. He has no idea what's going on anymore. Dean is very cryptic, he decides.

The werewolf doesn't say anything else, just dials a number and waits for the call to be answered.

"Heey, Charlie," he greets someone amicably. "Yeah, yeah I know I am an asshole for calling you so late but I really need your help here. And it's kind of urgent, you know."

Castiel strains his ears to hear the voice from the other end, but it's not helping. Dean keeps grinning and chuckling.

"Ok. We have quite a situation here and my friend needs a passport with a new name and all the necessary docs. Yeah, as usual. Like you normally do. His name is Castiel Novak. What? What kind of a question is that? How the fuck would I know?" Dean huffs, looking at the reporter. "Umm, well he's… he's got blue eyes and dark brown hair. A bit shorter than me. Let me send you his pic." The werewolf quickly sends Castiel's photo to his collocutor. "I just sent his photo to you, check your inbox. What? Umm... Ok, give me a second." Dean pulls the cell phone away from his ear, turning to Castiel and saying: "She wants to know if you speak any foreign languages."

"Yes, I speak fluent French," Castiel says with a nod.

"Yep, he says he speaks French," Dean informs whoever he's talking to. "Alright, thanks. I owe you one."

"Who were you talking to?" Castiel inquires as soon as Dean finishes talking.

"Wow, you sound so jealous, Cas," Dean winks at him, making the reporter blush. "It's my friend Charlie. She's a computer genius. She'll prepare all the necessary documents for you. You will get them on Friday."

"I see," Castiel whispers, falling silent, but then he remembers something. "But what about proof? Your boss required you show him proof that you killed me!"

Dean chuckles; he can't help but like this guy. "So naïve," he smiles. "You think we can't fake your death?"

Castiel falls silent, looking at Dean, dumbstruck, while the werewolf keeps smiling to himself, imagining Castiel writhing and moaning under his body.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please welcome Mr. Atkins aka Fucker :D

"Fake my death?” Castiel blinks, confused. "How are we going to do that?"

"Trust me. I always have awesome ideas. We’ll think of something." Dean licks the tomato sauce off of his fingers with deliberately slow motions and smirks when Castiel flicks his tongue out, wetting his chapped lips. "See something that you like?" The werewolf grins at the brunet.

Castiel coughs, clearing his throat. "Dean," he begins, fidgeting nervously on his chair.

"Shoot. What is it?" Dean yawns, spinning the empty beer can in his hand.

"I… I need to get back to my house." Castiel closes his eyes, waiting for Dean to yell at him. Surprisingly, it never happens.

"And why is that?" Dean squints his eyes, his gaze falling on Castiel's lips.

"Because… because Mr. Atkins must be very hungry now and I can't leave him for a long time." Castiel folds his hands in his lap, looking guilty.

"Who the fuck is Mr. Atkins? Is there some handicapped guy in your house?" Dean frowns. He can't recall seeing anyone in the reporter's house.

"No, no. I live alone." Castiel shakes his head. "Mr. Atkins is my cat."

"A cat?" Dean parrots.

The brunet nods. "Yes, he’s my cat. I've had him for three years. He's very attached to me and I can't leave him like that."

Dean mutters something under his breath which Castiel can't quite hear. "What kind of a name is Mr. Atkins?" Dean grumbles. He doesn't like these little, rumbling balls of fur. Especially after being scratched and bitten by a neighbor's cat in his childhood.

"He is a very smart cat. Reminded me of my professor at the college and that's why I named him after him." Castiel smiles shyly.

"I see." Dean clicks his tongue, looking down at his watch. It's 4:35 AM and still dark outside.

"Can you take me to my house? I need to feed him. Please," Castiel whispers, looking at the host pleadingly.

"No." Dean cuts him off. "I can't do that." He quickly gets up, grabbing the reporter by his arm and drags Castiel towards the bathroom.

"Dean, let me go. What are you doing? Dean!" Castiel struggles and shouts indignantly but his protests are met calmly.

The werewolf throws him into the bathroom, and quickly follows suit. Dean opens the medicine cabinet on the wall, quickly pulling something out.

"On your knees!" Dean orders briefly.

"What?" Castiel gulps, feeling fear seizing his body. "What do you want to do?"

"I said on your knees. Don't make me hurt you!" Dean growls, frustrated.

Castiel obeys silently, getting down on his knees and looking up at the werewolf with his eyes wide open. Dean can hear Castiel's deafening heartbeat and hurries to calm him down.

"Relax, I'm not going to hurt you. I'm just making sure you don't escape while I'm gone." Dean quickly handcuffs the blue-eyed man to the pipe under the bathroom sink. "There you go." The werewolf hums, content with his work.

"Where are you going? Don't leave me here!" Castiel tugs at the handcuffs. "Let me go. This isn’t funny!"

"Sorry sugar, no can do. You gotta wait ‘til I come back." Dean winks at him. "And you can shout as much as you want. No one will hear you."

Dean leaves the bathroom, leaving Castiel's protesting shouts behind. He only has an hour ‘til dawn and has to hurry.

Winchester gets into the Impala, starting the engine. He already has a cunning plan, how to fool Crowley and save Castiel's ass without getting into trouble himself.

* * *

It's been more than an hour since Dean left and Castiel is tired of struggling with the handcuffs. Dean had made sure that the reporter wouldn't be able to free himself. Castiel had given up and simply decided to wait for the host's return. He doesn't know why, but somehow he's found himself trusting Dean more and more. Hopefully Dean wouldn't change his mind after all and end things with a single shot.

Castiel must've dozed off before a slamming door and a loud "Son of a bitch" wakes him up. He shifts on a small rug, looking at the bathroom door, waiting for it to be opened. Loud footsteps from upstairs tell him that Dean is in his bedroom. The noise is horrific, like hundreds of elephants are playing soccer right above his head.

A few minutes pass before Dean opens the door and walks in.

"Where have you been?" Castiel asks, looking at Dean's hands as the host unlocks the handcuffs.

"Had to run a few errands. I have something in my bedroom for you. Hurry up." Dean grabs Castiel's arm, helping him to his feet.

As they enter Dean's bedroom, Castiel sees a travel bag on Dean's bed.

"I went to your house and brought some clothes for you," the host says. "Since you’re going to leave the country, you’re gonna need it."

Castiel steps forward and unzips the bag, going through its contents. There are a few jeans, T-shirts, socks, boxers, black Converse, and a red hooded sweater. Castiel gets so busy that he never notices how Dean sneaks out of the room.

"Why didn't you te…" Castiel turns around but Dean is nowhere to be seen. He walks out of the bedroom, hearing the front door slam again. Castiel's jaw almost drops to the floor at the sight before him: Dean is sneezing hysterically while carrying Mr. Atkins by its scruff. Oops, probably an allergy.

"What?" Castiel rasps, not believing his eyes. Mr. Atkins is hissing, making angry noises and trying to scratch Dean, who is dragging the feline towards its owner.

"Here’s your damn cat!" Dean sneezes again, throwing Mr. Atkins at Castiel. "What's his name again?"

"Mr. Atkins," Castiel replies dumbly, pressing the cat to his chest.

"I don't give a shit. For me his name is Fucker. Now, listen carefully to me, Cas. If that damn thing pees anywhere in the house, more importantly on my shoes, I’ll skin it! Got it?" Dean barks at the brunet.

Castiel nods hurriedly. "Yes. Got it. He won't, I promise."

"Alright," Dean nods. "I put some cat treats in your bag so you can feed him. Are you happy now?"

The reporter makes a step towards Dean. Mr. Atkins jumps out of his hands and shamelessly walks towards the kitchen with the intention of learning the new surroundings. Castiel raises his uninjured hand, gently touching Dean's cheek.

"Yes. Thank you, Dean. It means a lot to me," Castiel whispers, slowly leaning forward.

"Good. I'm glad to hear it," Dean swallows hard, meeting Castiel's lips on his way.

Their kiss starts slow and tender, soon after turning into a fierce battle of tongues, fighting for dominance. The room fills with their grunts and soft moans, while Mr. Atkins marks his territory in the kitchen with a happy purr.


	9. Chapter 9

Dean’s hands slide from Castiel’s waist to the reporter’s ass, grabbing handfuls of it, pulling the smaller man even closer, pressing him flushed against his chest. Castiel loses the battle for dominance and simply decides to go along, yielding to Dean’s touches. The werewolf’s teeth nibble and graze at the blue-eyed man’s bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth. Castiel lets out a soft moan, rolling his hips, meeting Dean’s hardness on his way.

“God, Cas,” Dean moans. “You have no idea what you do to me. You are killing me here.”

Castiel’s cheeks are flushed red and his eyes shining from lust. Dean can smell the reporter’s arousal hanging heavy in the air and he has no doubt that Castiel wants him as much as the werewolf does.

“I have no wish of killing anyone,” Castiel rasps, resting his forehead on Dean’s shoulder, slipping his uninjured hand under the host’s T-shirt, caressing the taut muscles on his abdomen. His fingers play with Dean’s bellybutton, slowly sneaking into the werewolf’s pants. “Wow,” Castiel chuckles, impressed at the size of the bulge his hand meets down there and squeezes it gently.

“That…that was nice,” Dean grunts, bucking his hips into Castiel’s hand. “But I’m aiming for a bigger fish. And I don’t think you will run away this time, leaving me all hot and bothered.” Dean nibbles at Castiel’s earlobe, making the brunet shiver in anticipation.

“You are right,” Castiel says. “I don’t want to run away. Not anymore.” He stares at Dean and then chuckles.

“What’s so funny?” Dean’s hand grabs handful of Castiel’s hair, gently bending the reporter’s head back, so he could leave thorough, long and wet stripes along the brunet’s neck.

“It’s just that your eyes turned yellow again,” Castiel pants heavily. “I-I really like your contacts.”

Dean stops abruptly and pulls back. He’s torn between telling Castiel the truth about his supernatural origin and burying the secret deep inside his subconscious, locking it with seven keys. Castiel senses his inner struggle, touching the werewolf’s cheek cautiously with his lean, delicate fingers.

“What’s bothering you, Dean?” His voice is soft and warm, like an ocean in summer night. “Tell me.”

Dean swallows nervously. Castiel sounds sincere and there is no doubt in Dean’s head that he wants to help but what if his secret freaks the fuck out of the reporter? Castiel seems to be an ordinary guy with a boring life and he probably doesn’t believe in supernatural world, having no clue that he’s about to have sex with one of its representatives.

“These are not contacts,” Dean blurts out before thinking of shutting his mouth. His lips form a thin, pale line, shooting a worried look at the brunet. Castiel just tilts his head to the side, studying the werewolf’s face curiously.

“If you’re not wearing the contacts then what is it? Not that I’m complaining. I kind of like it. Makes you look like a big bad wolf.” Castiel giggles like a child. “I love wolves. They are my favourite animals, next to cats.” The brunet has no idea what effect his words have on the host. Dean is fighting the urge to whine, grab the brunet and sniff him all over.

“What if I…what if I told you that I’m not who you think I am,” Dean croaks. " _Please don’t freak out. Please don’t freak out_." He thinks feverishly.

“I am sorry but I don’t understand what you’re trying to tell me, Dean.” Castiel smiles awkwardly. “What do you mean?”

Dean rubs his face, mentally preparing himself for the worst. “What if I told you that I am not human? That I am a werewolf?”

Castiel falls silent and Dean practically can hear the wheels turning in the brunet’s head. Maybe he even thinks that Dean has lost his mind?

“Let me get it right. Are you trying to tell me that you are a werewolf?” Castiel breaks the tense silence.

Dean closes his eyes, silently counts to ten, and takes a deep breath. “Yes.” The answer is short but perfectly answers the brunet’s question.

“So, are you telling me that you turn into a wolf and howl at the full moon?” Dean has a hard time reading Castiel’s tone. He doesn’t seem freaked out. No, he seems damn calm and it’s scaring Dean.

“Umm…No. It’s not like that. I’ve never transformed fully into a wolf. Only halfway. I’m more human than a wolf. Sometimes it’s hard to control my wolf nature, but it also has its perks. I’m much stronger, faster, and enduring than any human. My senses are sharp and I can easily feel and see things from a distance. I know this sounds crazy but supernatural creatures like me exist, believe it or not.” Castiel is listening attentively, all self-composed and it’s Dean who starts to panic.

“Why aren’t you freaking out?” Dean asks dumbly. “I thought you would have a panic attack?” Then the realization dawns on him. “You think I’m shitting you, don’t you?”

Castiel rubs his neck awkwardly. “Please, I don’t mean any offense but it’s really hard to believe what you’re telling me. The eye color change could be some trick or…or some…some med…” Castiel’s stuttering speech slows down word after word and his eyes start to widen when Dean begins to transform in front of his eyes: the green color of the host’s eyes are replaced by the color of liquid amber, and a guttural growl fills the room as Dean’s perfect white teeth sharpen, and two fangs descend into his mouth.

The werewolf slowly moves towards Castiel, who seems to be frozen against the wall, unable to move.

“What do you say now?” Dean puts his clawed hands on either side of Castiel’s head, trapping him between the wall and his body. “Isn’t my little red riding Cas afraid of the big bad wolf?” Dean leans forward touching Castiel’s neck with his nose, inhaling the human’s scent. “Intoxicating as always,” he murmurs.

“I-I am not afraid,” Castiel whispers hoarsely. “Not unless you want to rip me to shreds and eat me for dinner.”

Dean stares down at the trapped Castiel, his breath coming out in hot huffs, before breaking into a loud laughter. The brunet watches in awe how Dean transforms back into his human form, all animalistic features disappearing.

“What’s so funny?” Now it’s Castiel’s time to inquire.

“I don’t eat humans, Cas. I’m different.” Dean grins at the brunet, removing his hands from the wall and unblocking Castiel’s way.

“That’s good. I don’t think my meat would taste delicious.” Castiel states seriously. “You said you could sense and feel various stuff. What do your senses tell you now?”

Dean narrows his eyes, concentrating on Castiel’s question. He sniffs the air around them carefully, a smirk forming on his plump lips.

“My senses tell me that despite me being a scary creature, you still want to have sex with me. I can smell your arousal and it’s getting stronger.” Dean rasps out. “Am I right?”

Castiel licks his lips. “I said I wouldn’t want to become your dinner but I wouldn’t mind if you devoured me in another way.” The smirk on Novak’s lips is devilish and Dean can’t help but shake his head in disbelief.

“You kinky son of a bitch.”

* * *

They lose most of their clothes on their way to Dean’s bedroom, stumbling and falling, moaning and panting into each other’s mouths. By the time the werewolf lays Castiel on his bed they’re both left with only their boxers on. They grind against each other frantically, ‘till they’re both a trembling, whimpering mess.

“Christ, Cas. You drive me crazy, your smell, your everything,” Dean starts to kiss Castiel's neck. His hands grab the reporter’s wrists, crossing them above the brunet’s head, pinning them down with one hand. "I want to touch every single part of your body, lick it, smell it. I don't want to let you go. When you left me there at the bar I felt so angry and frustrated," he moans, rolling his hips into Castiel’s languidly.

“I am sorry,” Castiel whimpers. “You were just too curious and I got suspicious. If not for your curiosity we could’ve had a thing back then. Now, kiss me. Please.”

Dean gladly obeys and leans forward, cupping Castiel's cheek and locking their lips. The brunet gasps into his mouth, bucking his hips as Dean uses the moment to slide his tongue into Castiel’s mouth. Dean pulls away, only to kiss Castiel all over his face. He showers the smaller man’s eyes, cheeks, nose, and forehead with feather-light kisses. Castiel just pants and writhes under him, seized by burning lust.

“Dean, please.” Castiel moans, not quite understanding what he’s pleading for.

"Fuck, I want you," Dean growls, looking at the kiss swollen lips and claiming them again. He starts to kiss Castiel's neck, placing soft pecks on it, tongue sliding across the brunet’s collarbone. “You taste so sweet, you have no idea.” Dean licks Castiel’s nipple, quickly blowing on it afterwards.

“I-I want more. Please.” Castiel wants to break from Dean’s hold, wrap his arms around the werewolf’s neck, bite and scratch his back and whines in frustration.

“Someone’s getting impatient.” The host smiles. “Alright, I’m feeling merciful.” Dean lets go of Castiel’s wrists and the brunet moans his gratitude.

“I think we need to get rid of these.” Dean tugs at Castiel’s boxers and the reporter nods his agreement.

“Yes. I agree.”

Dean parts Castiel’s thighs with his knee, settling down between them. He wraps his lips around Castiel’s throbbing erection, humming contentedly when the brunet almost screams out his pleasure, hips bucking wildly into the werewolf’s mouth. Dean’s hand rests on the smaller man’s hip, holding him down, preventing him from moving.

“Dean, oh god. Dean!” Castiel’s hands slide into the werewolf short, soft hair, grabbing his head gently but firmly. “It’s so good. Please don’t stop!”

Dean can’t help but smile. He knows how skilful his tongue is, that it can cause such raw and sincere moans from Castiel and Dean loves every second of it. The werewolf licks up and down the shaft, swiping his tongue over the head which is glistening with pre-cum. He pays detailed attention, almost worshiping the brunet’s balls and the tight ring of muscles. His tongue coats and bathes Castiel’s hole in saliva, lapping at it thoroughly and Castiel screams, arching his back from the bed.

“Please don’t torture me.” Castiel almost sobs. His hand wants to grab his aching member but Dean waggles a finger at him.

“Not yet.”

Dean’s mouth returns to suckling at the brunet’s hole, tongue licking up Castiel’s heavy length and probing at the slit. Castiel’s scent is heavier and sweeter there and Dean inhales sharply, savoring the moment. Without a warning his hands flip Castiel onto his belly, making the reporter gasp in surprise.

“Relax,” Dean murmurs into his ear. He kisses Castiel’s neck, slowly moving towards the brunet’s waist, leaving a trail of soft pecks on his way.

Dean stops when he notices bruises already forming on Castiel’s buttocks in the shape of his handprint and he silently curses himself. How could he have been such an idiot as to forget that Castiel was a mere human, that there was no need to go so brutal on him?

“I’m sorry,” Dean whispers apologetically, kissing the bruises on the smooth, tender skin, making Castiel shudder under his touches.

Castiel cranes his neck to take a look at what Dean’s staring at. He tries to grind against the werewolf’s erection, moaning impatiently.

“I will forgive you if you just shut up and fuck me already.”

Dean chuckles, biting at the brunet’s neck. He likes the guy now even more when the reporter didn’t reject him after hearing about his supernatural origin, which Dean still finds very odd.

“On your hands and knees.”

Castiel gladly obeys, quickly shifting to the asked position, presenting his ass to Dean’s mercy. He leans on his forearms, waiting for the werewolf’s next move. Castiel’s on the edge of exploding, breath coming out hot and ragged, his dick curled towards his belly, leaking a thick thread of pre-cum.

“Dean…” He asks brokenly.

“Just a second. Hold on for a second, alright?” Dean catches Castiel’s lips in a quick kiss before pulling away and opening the drawer of the nightstand. “Lemme get the lube.”

* * *

Dean feels like howling at the top of his lungs when he slides into the scorching heat that is Castiel’s inner walls. It feels so tight, enveloping and amazing around his dick that Dean has to take a break and stop midway to catch his breath as not to come there and then like a hormonal teenager.

“Fuck…Cas…fuck,” he grunts against Castiel’s sweat covered shoulder and sheathes fully inside his lover.

Castiel keeps shivering under Dean’s body but more from pleasure than from pain. Dean’s length feels perfect inside of him, flaring up all of his nerve endings, making his toes curl. He hasn’t felt so good in years. Not since the college years.

“Please move,” he whispers hoarsely, grabbing Dean’s hip, desperately trying to bring him closer.

Dean’s shallow thrusts, lazy rolls of his hips have Castiel whimpering and begging for “harder, faster for God’s sake” but the werewolf is relentless, he wants to take his time, despite that his own cock is screaming for release.

“I wanna take my time. I’m gonna fuck you slow and thoroughly, until your voice is hoarse from screaming and begging for me to go faster and harder, to hammer into you and fuck you into the mattress so good that you won’t be able to walk for a week. Until you forget about everything but my cock buried deep inside you, ramming into you and make you cum so hard that you forget your own name. Would you like that? Tell me, Cas would you like that?” Dean changes the angle, the tip of his cock sliding over the bundle of sensitive nerves at agonizingly slow speed.

“Yes! I would love that! Dean, please! Dean, Dean, Dean!” Castiel sobs into the pillow, biting the edge of it. Dean’s movements are so deliriously sweet, yet torturous.

“Fuck,” Dean grunts, squeezing his eyes shut, unable to resist anymore and picks up his pace, earning a gratuitous whimper from Castiel. His thrusts become rapid, deeper and more powerful, skin slapping against skin. At some point the werewolf starts to get worried, he doesn’t want to hurt Castiel but all those loud moans and panting coming from the human state otherwise.

Dean grabs Castiel’s hips, slightly parting the brunet’s buttocks and watches in fascination how his length slides in and out of Castiel’s body. Familiar heat and tightness start to rise up in his abdomen and Dean knows that he’s very close. The host’s hand closes around Castiel’s neglected cock and begins to pump it fast, matching the frantic rolls of his hips.

Castiel moans once, twice, shudders and cums hard, spilling over Dean’s fist and the bed sheets. As the human’s inner walls clench down around his member, Dean can’t help but bite down on Castiel’s neck, growling possessively while his hands tighten their grip on the brunet’s hips as the werewolf shoots his release into Castiel’s depth, panting and shaking.

* * *

Neither Dean nor Castiel give a damn about the mess they’ve made. Both are too wrecked to move and take a shower. Dean simply covers them both with a comforter.

“What time is it?” Castiel croaks, his voice sounding all hoarse.

“It’s seven in the morning. Sleep, we still have a few hours.” Dean tightens his embrace around the reporter’s waist.

“A few hours till what?” Castiel’s eyes are fluttering and he has a hard time staying awake.

“You’ll see later. Now sleep.” Dean kisses him behind his ear, shifting in the bed to get more comfortable.

“Alright,” Castiel whispers, closing his eyes and falling asleep almost instantly.

Dean wakes up after two hours. Castiel is still deep asleep beside him. His lips are slightly parted, the injured hand resting near his cheek. He looks so innocent and peaceful that Dean’s heart thuds against his ribcage. He quickly puts a chaste kiss on Castiel’s lips before sneaking out of the bed and the room.

He stretches and yawns, deciding to go to the kitchen and brew fresh coffee. He’s covered the half way when he smells it: a heavy, disturbing and warning scent lingering in the air.

Dean quickly enters the kitchen, sniffing the air. His nose leads him to the fridge. And there it is. The werewolf bends down, squinting at the bottom of the fridge which has Mr. Atkin’s territorial claiming mark on it.

“Son of a bitch!” Dean swears loudly, storming out of the kitchen and into the living room where Castiel’s white, Persian cat is sleeping on the couch. Dean just grabs him by the scruff unceremoniously.

Castiel is woken up by a loud sneezing, swearing and a cat’s screaming. He quickly puts his underwear on, forgetting about the rest of the clothes and runs out of the bedroom.

His jaw almost drops on the floor when he enters the kitchen. Mr. Atkins is hissing and flailing in Dean’s hand but that’s not what surprises the brunet the most: Dean’s boxers are pushed down and his holding his dick in his other hand.

“Mine! This is my territory you son of a bitch! You hear me?” He yells at the cat. “I don’t give a shit that you marked it! Look!” The werewolf sneezes again and then pees a little against the door of the fridge. “My territory. Not yours! Capisce? Now, get the fuck out of here!” He drops the cat on the floor and turns around only to face the reporter, who’s gaping at him.

“I…I….” Dean closes and opens his mouth, his dick still in his hand. “I just…the cat…he wanted to…” The werewolf mumbles, blushing furiously, feeling awkward and utterly embarrassed.

Castiel just throws his head back and laughs hysterically.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally we will see what Dean's plan is :)

Castiel likes Dean's plan. It's simple but effective as the werewolf states, and Castiel must agree but he's still worried; he doesn't want Dean to get into trouble because of him.

"Trust me, everything will be fine. I'll make sure of it." Dean smiles at him across the table, where they're sipping their morning coffee. Mr. Atkins aka Fucker is nowhere to be seen after Dean's antics and Castiel's scolding, and the werewolf seems to be pleased about that fact.

It's early Thursday morning which means a working day for Castiel. But he can't go to work. Dean hands him something and Castiel gasps: it's his cell phone.

"I brought it back with me from your house but didn't want to give it to you right away." Dean chuckles. "Go on, make a call and tell them you can't go to work today."

Castiel takes the cell phone and dials his office number. "Umm… Hello, this is Castiel Novak. I just wanted to inform you that I won't be able to come to work today, I have a fever and I'm not feeling well. Please tell Mr. Milton. Thank you, Becky." Castiel finishes the conversation with the receptionist and sighs. "I hope this works, Dean."

"Of course, hot stuff. Just wait and see." Dean cracks his knuckles, smiling to himself as he imagines the scenes from their little play.

"Do you need anything from my side?" Castiel asks quietly.

"Nah, just your precious presence. I'll do the rest," Dean quickly assures him. "Don't worry about it. I've got everything we may need ready."

"Yeah, sounds good. Hopefully we will make it believable and your boss doesn't sense anything suspicious. I wouldn't want you to get into trouble because of me." Castiel looks at Dean, a concerned expression glued to his face.

"I know what I'm doing." The werewolf seems confident and Castiel stops worrying. "Your new documents will arrive tomorrow morning and you'll leave the States as soon as we have everything ready." Dean's voice drops. He realizes that tomorrow is the last day they will spend together.

"What about you? What are you going to do after all of this is finished?" The brunet clears his throat, emotions taking over him.

"I…" Dean stops, thinking about the answer. "I'll just drop out of the business and tell Crowley that I'm done. Then…" Dean stops again, clicks his tongue and continues. "Then I will go to Santa Teresa, Costa Rica."

"What are you going to do there?" Castiel whispers hoarsely. Damn his voice!

"I have a small beach house in Santa Teresa. I'll just watch sunsets and the ocean I guess. Doesn't sound too bad, does it?" Dean smiles but his smile is not a happy one. "What about you? Where do you wanna go, Cas?"

"I-I'm planning to go to England. I'll stay with my sister. She will be happy to see me. I'll probably get a job too, if I'm lucky." The brunet avoids meeting the werewolf's eyes.

Dean nods. "Yeah, sounds good."

The rest of the breakfast continues in silence. No words are needed to understand that both men feel saddened by the sudden realization that tomorrow their ways will part. Probably forever.

* * *

At 9 PM Dean packs a small bag with various things. Castiel is standing beside him, watching the process curiously. He would never think that they would need so many things: makeup kit, wax, spirit gum, liquid latex, fake blood, and much more.

"We will need all of these." Dean smiles when he notices Castiel's puzzled expression. "If we want to make you look like a dead body, that is."

"I see." Castiel hums, leaning against the table and looking out of the window. "It's dark outside."

"Yep, perfect time to set our plan into motion." Dean zips the bag. "You ready?"

After a silent nod from the reporter, they leave the house. The Impala's engine purrs loudly and the car takes off into the darkness of the night.

The place where Dean takes Novak is located on the outskirts of the city. It's an abandoned psychiatric ward, more than hundred years old, built in 1911. Dean parks the Impala nearby and grabs the bag. "Move your ass, Cas. We've come to the place," he says softly.

Castiel jerks awake and looks around with blurry eyes. There are no people or cars passing by, the place looks isolated from the rest of the world.

"Sorry, I must've fallen asleep." He rubs his eyes and opens the door to get out.

Dean doesn't even need to use his lock pick as the door of the ward is not locked. It opens with a nasty creaking sound, letting the two men in. The werewolf quickly finds the switch and to his surprise the lights turn on, lighting up the building with a dim light. As Dean and Castiel walk through a long, dark corridor, something crunches and shatters under their feet. Some rattling and clanking, water dripping noises reach their hearing. The atmosphere is gloomy and depressing and Castiel shivers unwillingly.

"Yeah, spooky place isn't it?" Dean chuckles, glancing at the reporter.

Castiel doesn't answer. He just keeps looking around, feeling sorry for all the patients who had ever been locked here.

After twenty minutes of wandering around they finally find a suitable place: an operating room. Dean once again finds the switch and the lone light bulb above their head comes to life. The room is a mess: shattered glass on the floor, broken pieces of furniture scattered around the room, a damaged operating bed standing in the corner of the room.

One look at the bed and Dean knows what to do. He quickly grabs it and rolls into the middle of the room. "I want you to lie on it." The werewolf turns to Castiel.

Castiel nods and crawls onto the bed. "Now what?"

"Now shut up and let me do my job." Dean grins and quickly straps Castiel's hands and feet to the bed. He adjusts it, raising it up a bit, so Castiel is in a half-sitting position. "Good, good," Dean murmurs to himself. "Now, next move." He pulls a white handkerchief out of his pocket and quickly gags Castiel. "Hmm, something is missing." Dean taps his fingers against his chin. "Let's try this." His hands ruffle the brunet's hair, 'till it sticks out in every direction. "Yeah, much better." Dean hums and takes out the camera. "Give me an angry and confused look," he instructs the reporter.

The look Castiel gives Dean is not satisfactory for the werewolf. "Nah, this won't do," Dean shakes his head. "Sorry about this, buddy." He apologizes and slaps the brunet in the face. He hopes it's not too hard.

Castiel sees sparks dancing in front of his eyes and struggles against the restraints. His muffled "snh itch" and wrathful expression is accompanied by a flashing camera.

"Good. That's what I wanted. Natural expression. I'm sorry once again." Dean removes the gag and quickly kisses the brunet, muffling his angry protests. "We have to make it look as realistic as we can, don't we?"

Castiel sighs, realizing that Dean is right. "You are right. But if you slap me once again, I'll kick your ass. I'll find a way to break free," Castiel barks at him.

"Mm, you look sexy when you're angry. Maybe I should make you angry more often?" Dean chuckles low and raspy. "Maybe we could have a quickie when we finish our photo session, so I could fuck you while your hands are still tied."

"Dean," Castiel growls warningly.

"Alright, alright." The werewolf throws his hands in the air. "Here comes stage two."

Castiel's heart starts to beat frantically when he notices a knife in Dean's hand and he closes his eyes. Nasty feeling of fear crashes down on him and the brunet shudders slightly.

"I won't hurt you. I promise." Dean's soothing voice makes him open his eyes and he's met with the werewolf's understanding eyes. The blue-eyed man gives a brief nod, gesturing him to carry on. Dean carefully slides the knife down Castiel's body, slicing the thin fabric of the reporter's green T-shirt.

"Gotta tell you that it will take quite a long time, so, you can take a nap if you want." Dean tells Castiel, smirking.

The brunet just rolls his eyes and mumbles something incomprehensible.

Dean had been right when he said it would take a long time. His hands work carefully on Castiel's face and body, applying wax, liquid latex, and shades. The werewolf's touches are so delicate that Novak manages to fall asleep. He wakes up when Dean gingerly shakes him and removes the gag.

"How long was I sleeping?" He asks drowsily.

"About an hour. Wanna see my masterpiece?" Dean winks at him.

Castiel gasps in shock when he looks at his own refection in the mirror. It can't be him! It's someone else with bloody face and a bruised, swollen eye looking at him.

"How…how did you do this?" The reporter stares at Dean, bewildered.

"What can I say? I've got skillful hands. I thought you already knew that." Dean gives him a cocky grin and the brunet blushes at the innuendo. "Time for some more photos." The werewolf gags his 'victim' once again and snaps a few more photos. "Alright, now we have to add fake bullet holes," Dean says. "I think we should go for three. One in your chest, the rest in your abdomen and forehead."

* * *

The rest of the process, which consists of adding fake bullet holes and taking more photos, doesn't take more than twenty minutes. Dean and Castiel are both sitting on the floor, going through the photos they've taken. Dean has done a perfect job; one will have no suspicions that Castiel is not dead when they look at these. Hopefully Crowley swallows the bait too.

"They look very realistic." The brunet rests his chin on the werewolf's shoulder, looking down at Dean's camera.

"Yeah, they do. But there is one more thing we need to do. Crowley is not a fool," Dean adds. "And we need to go to Cleveland for this one."

* * *

The drive from Lakewood to Cleveland lasts for fifteen minutes, plus ten more before they reach the final destination. They are at the shore of Lake Erie. Dean surely knows the area, as he has chosen a place well-hidden from curious eyes. Castiel is still contemplating the lake when the sound of a slamming trunk startles him.

Dean walks to him with a small smile. "You ready?" He asks, dropping the bag he's carrying and putting his hands on the smaller man's shoulders.

"I think so." The reporter swallows nervously, glancing at the lake's glittering surface.

"Alright." The werewolf puts a small kiss on Castiel's nose, as he doesn't want to ruin all the make up job he's done. "Wait here." Dean walks towards a small slope with thick bushes on it and after some fussing, drags a small boat out. "You might want to close your mouth, Cas before some birds make a nest in it." Dean snickers, as he keeps dragging the boat towards the lake. "Take the bag and get your ass over here."

* * *

Dean stops rowing when they are about seventy feet from the shore. Castiel, who's been quiet all the time, glances at the werewolf.

"Why did you stop and what's going on? I don't understand your intentions." Dean unzips the bag and takes something out, quickly unfolding it; it's a black body bag. The brunet's eyes go wide. "Is this what I think it is?"

Dean sighs, rubbing his forehead. "Just get in the bag."

"I don't want to!" Castiel exclaims. "No…I don't want to get in!"

"Cas, hey!" Dean grabs his arm. "Listen," he says softly. "Everything will be alright. We just need the final touch, that's it."

Castiel just keeps shaking his head, and Dean can see that he's on the edge of complete panic. "No, no. You don't understand, Dean. I hate water. I almost drowned in a lake when I was four. I can't swim," he says brokenly.

"Look at me. I swear you won't even feel that you're in the water. We just need to take a photo of the body thrown into the lake. I will quickly pull you out of the water. I swear. Do you think I will let you drown? After all of this?" Dean's thumb brushes over Castiel's bottom lip. "You fool," he adds affectionately.

Eventually the werewolf's words relax the reporter and Castiel gets into the body bag. Dean quickly adjusts his make up, zipping the bag up to the brunet's chest. "Keep your eyes open and don't blink. You're supposed to be dead, you know." Dean grins sheepishly. He quickly snaps a photo when Castiel is ready. "Alright. I'm gonna throw you into the lake now. Stay still and I'll get you out as soon as I have a photo, alright?" Dean looks down at the reporter, who looks like a human burrito.

"Please don't let me drown." Castiel whispers hoarsely, staring at the werewolf pleadingly.

"I would never let you drown, silly human," Dean says fondly, leaning forward and crashing their lips together. When the kiss is over, Dean stands up in the boat, picking up Castiel. "Hold on," he whispers reassuringly and after the reporter gives him a silent nod, throws him into the lake.

Dean snaps a few photos and bends down to put the camera into the bag. When he straightens, Castiel is nowhere to be seen.

"Fuck!" Dean shouts frightened, icy-cold fear seizing his whole body. Without any hesitation the werewolf jumps into the water to save Castiel from the deadly embrace of the lake.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't kill me. I am already dead because of the last line.

_"Hey, champ, don't go too far! You can't swim, remember?"_

_"Yes, daddy, I'll be careful!"_

_The water feels so warm and pleasant against his skin. The boy splashes and squeals happily, jumping up and down. His father and older sister Anna are sitting on the shore, drinking cool lemonades and talking quietly. Castiel loves them so much; they are all his he has left. His mother died while giving birth to him and Castiel knows her only from rare photos which his father keeps in an old photo album._

_"Anna, come into the water. It's very warm!" the boy shouts excitedly, spinning around with open arms._

_"In a minute!" Anna's gentle voice reaches his hearing, but Castiel is not listening; a silver fish has caught his attention and the boy is determined to catch it!_

_Well, the fish doesn't want to be caught but Castiel doesn't want to give up just so easily. He takes a deep breath and submerges himself in the water. When he opens his eyes he's met with so much greenness; there are so many algae on the bottom of the lake and oh, there it is! The tiny fish Castiel wants to catch is sitting on algae a few feet away from him._

_The boy knows that he has to be quick as the air supply in his lungs is almost gone. Castiel swims forward, reaching his hand out to grab the fish. But the sea creature is playing with him; it swims into the depth of algae, forcing Castiel to sink his hand into it. To his own surprise, Castiel manages to grab the fish and he's about to dive out of the water, when he realizes that his hand is trapped._

_Wild fear seizes him as he understands that no one will save him as they didn't see him diving into the lake. Castiel struggles but he's unable to free his little hand - it's trapped firmly. His ears start to ring and Castiel begins to lose consciousness when the water starts to fill his lungs._

_The boy screams. The last thing he feels before sinking into oblivion is a strong hand that grabs him._

* * *

It takes him about two minutes to find Castiel in the depth of the lake. Dean knows that he has to hurry up and get him out of the water, as the reporter is unconscious and has probably swallowed a lot of water.

Coughing and spluttering Dean emerges from the lake, quickly getting into the boat and dragging the body bag with Castiel on it.

The water has washed away the make up and Castiel looks deathly pale. He is not breathing either. The werewolf quickly unzips the body bag, taking the unconscious body out of it.

"Come on! You can't die!" Dean covers the reporter's mouth for urgent CPR. "Open your eyes, dammit!" The werewolf places his hands on Castiel's breastbone and presses frantically. "Come on, babe, Come on! You can do it!"

Dean is losing all the hope and he feels like shooting himself, when Castiel jolts up, coughing and spluttering water all over himself.

"Cas! Cas!" Dean's voice is desperate, full of worry and unconcealed gentleness. "I was so af…" But a strong and quick punch in his jaw cuts him off.

"You son of a bitch!" Castiel shouts at him. "I almost died because of your damn idea! I told you I hated water as I can't fucking swim. Do you know how it feels when you're trapped into the body bag and you can't open it and there's only water around you? Do you know how it feels when your heart is beating somewhere in your throat and your lungs scream for air? And you realize that you're going to die? Do you know how it feels, Dean?" Castiel sobs out the last words, wrapping his arms around his shaking body and rocks back and forth.

Without a word Dean presses the smaller man to his chest, embracing him tightly. "I am sorry," he mumbles. "I fucked up. I'm sorry." Dean presses his nose to the brunet's neck and whines. He whines like a kicked puppy and Castiel can't help but chuckle. Dean is really a big wolf pup.

"It's alright." The brunet adds after a while. "I hope you don't want to spank me again?"

Dean frowns, looking at the reporter in confusion. "Why would I do that?"

"Umm… because I punched you?" Castiel begins warily. "And the first time I punched you, you spanked me so bad that my ass was on fire for hours."

Dean laughs out loud. "No, don't worry. No spanking this time."

Castiel sighs in relief and rests his head against Dean's chest. "I'm freezing." He complains and grabs Dean's t-shirt for more warmth, but it's not helping as the werewolf is wet too.

"Let's get the hell out of here. What do you say?" Dean cups the brunet's face, bringing their lips together in a searing kiss.

"Good idea," Castiel answers, panting after pulling away.

* * *

Castiel's new documents made by Charlie arrive the next morning. They are in the kitchen eating pancakes when the door bell rings and a young boy hands Dean a small package.

It has Castiel's new passport, a driver's license and a credit card (with 5000 US dollars on the account) in it. The brunet is looking at his new driver's license when he hears Dean's choked-off laughter which soon turns into a hysterical cackling.

"Why are you laughing?" The blue-eyed man stares at the werewolf as if he has lost his mind.

"Hahaha Charlie you sneaky little bitch." Dean shakes his head while looking at Castiel's new passport.

"What is it? Give it to me!" Castiel snatches the passport out of Dean's hands and stares at the photo and his new name.

The passport says that he's French and his name is Sebastien Bonner, thirty years old.

"You said you speak fluent French and she decided to make you French. As to your new surname I agree, you can totally give boners to people." Dean laughs again and Castiel feels how his ears start to burn.

"Shut up," he says weakly, still surprised how neat and authentic the documents look.

"What? It's true." Dean grins at him. "Works on me." He chuckles and presses a quick kiss on Castiel's chocolate covered lips. "Mm, you taste delicious."

The reporter gasps when Dean bends down, sliding his hands under Castiel's ass and picks him up. "What are you doing?"

"Taking you to my bedroom. Isn't it obvious?" Dean's hot breath against his ear makes the blue-eyed man moan quietly and he gladly wraps his limbs around the werewolf.

"But we…we did it… like… half an hour ago?" Castiel mumbles between the kisses as the werewolf keeps walking towards the bedroom.

"Do you want me to stop?" Dean asks cheekily, already knowing the answer.

"Nnn-no, don't stop." Castiel catches the werewolf's bottom lip with his teeth.

"I won't," Dean promises with a smile, nibbling at the brunet's earlobe.

* * *

Castiel's flight to London departs at 11 PM and it's Dean who takes him to Cleveland Hopkins International Airport.

There is dead silence in the car. Dean hasn't turned his favourite music on. Even Mr. Atkins is eerily quiet in his carrier. The werewolf throws careful glances at Castiel from time to time but the reporter is looking through the window, lost in thought. Castiel doesn't say anything but it doesn't mean that Dean can't read his face; the brunet clearly doesn't want to leave.

It takes them half an hour to get to the place. Castiel grabs his travel bag and Mr. Atkins' carrier from the back seat of the Impala with a quiet, almost inaudible sigh.

"So this is it?" Dean's voice sounds broken.

"Yeah… I guess this is it," Castiel whispers hoarsely.

"I can help you carry your bag or Fuc… Mr. Atkins." Dean clings to the last hope, damn, he doesn't want to say good bye!

"It's alright. I can carry both." Castiel shakes his head, looking everywhere but at Dean.

"Yeah… of course." The werewolf clears his throat. "Cas…" he begins but doesn't know what to say and just leans forward, hoping for a kiss.

"Please don't…" Castiel's voice has never sounded so desperate and anguished. "Goodbye, Dean Winchester," he adds after a short while.

A moment later after hearing the Impala's door slam, Dean realizes that Castiel has left the car and it's probably the last time he saw him.

It starts with small tremors which soon turn into violent shaking. Dean's eyes turn yellow, fangs descend and claws come out of his fingers. The deafening roar he makes sets all the cars' alarms off at the parking lot.

In the fit of his anger and despair Dean doesn't realize how his fist smashes the driver side window of the Impala.

And this is the first time Dean Winchester begins to cry.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much fore reading, leaving kudos and bookmarking the story! You are all amazing and I love you! Stay tuned for my upcoming new multi chapter story Under The Falling Skies ;)

_6 months later_

_August 8, 2014, Santa Teresa, Costa Rica_

Watching the ocean has become Dean's favourite thing to do. Especially on rainy days, when the beach is empty and no one will disturb his solitude; then he can sink deep into his thoughts and lose himself to oblivion, looking at the endless ocean.

It has been stormy and raining for three days, and now he watches the waves crash into the shore, where he's sitting in a chair sipping iced whiskey and unable to stop thinking about the blue-eyed man he lost six months ago in Lakewood, Ohio.

The reason Dean Winchester likes to watch the ocean is that this fathomless body of salty water can instantly take him to Castiel, connect him with the reporter mentally with unbreakable, invisible links without Dean even having to move from his chair.

Dean never followed Castiel to London. He could have but he didn't. There had been many reasons but the first and the most important was that Dean had started to doubt that the blue-eyed reporter would want to see him again after the refused kiss in the Impala. And it hurt a lot. Even the tons of alcohol weren't able to wash away the pain it had caused him.

Dean had moved to Santa Teresa, dropping out of the business with Crowley and settling down at his beach house in Costa Rica. He hadn't been with anyone after Castiel, not even drunken one-night stands. He just couldn't do it, not after he had tasted, smelled and felt the reporter in his arms.

Castiel's scent had always been intoxicating for Dean, arousing and baring his basic, raw instincts to claim and mark the brunet as his own. Even after so much time has passed he clearly remembers Castiel's scent, how sweet, teasing and delicious it used to be.

Dean closes his eyes and moans at the memories. He doesn't know how or why Castiel's scent is getting stronger. It's not like it could seep out of his memories, could it?

The werewolf is ready to make a frustrated grunt when suddenly his nose scrunches and Dean lets out a deafening sneeze. He even slightly jumps in his chair, spilling the drink.

"What the fuck?" Winchester growls. There definitely is a cat somewhere near him.

In what seems to be agreement there is an angry hissing, a muffled cat's scream and someone's reprimanding voice that sounds from behind Dean's back.

Dean's heart skips a beat as he jumps to his feet and turns around. It can't be true! A very ruffled and tired looking Castiel Novak with a backpack, holding Mr. Atkins in a carrier, is standing in front of him in the yellow sand of Santa Teresa.

The werewolf opens and closes his mouth, trying to say a word but his throat seems to be failing. "C-Cas…" he stammers finally.

"Hello, Dean," Castiel says in his gruff, deep voice. It sends chills down Dean's spine and his lips quirk into a small, almost invisible smile. The werewolf makes a few cautious steps towards the reporter, as if getting ready to pounce onto his prey. Castiel just keeps looking at him expectantly with his stupid, naïve blue eyes and Dean doesn't falter.

"You stupid son of a bitch," Dean murmurs, capturing the smaller man in a bone-crushing embrace as he buries his nose into Castiel's dark hair. "I missed you so much, Cas."

The carrier with Mr. Atkins falls out of Castiel's hand and the brunet hugs the werewolf tightly. "I missed you too, Dean. That's why I'm here."

Dean pulls away, catching Castiel's chin and looks him in the eyes. "Don't you ever, ever leave me again. You hear me, Cas?"

Castiel smiles. "I won't," he whispers. "I'm here to stay."

* * *

Castiel barely has time to put Mr. Atkins' carrier on the floor when they get inside Dean's enormous and very comfortable-looking house, when the werewolf presses himself to the brunet from behind.

"You like the place?" Dean's hot breath is tickling Castiel's neck as the werewolf's hand sneaks inside the brunet's khaki shorts and boxers, curling around the half-hard member.

"Dean," Castiel almost chokes, throwing his head back. Dean's touches had always made him lose control and melt like butter.

"Mm? What is it?" Dean rasps, biting Castiel's neck tenderly and grinding against the reporter's firm, round ass with his throbbing erection. "Did you miss this? Did you miss my touches? Because I did. I was dreaming of you, every night. Every damn night!"

The werewolf spins the brunet around, pushing his shorts and underwear down in a one go and Castiel quickly steps out of them, kicking them to god knows where. A few seconds and the brunet's black t-shirt joins the rest of the pile on the floor.

"Much better when you're naked," Dean pants, resting his hands on Castiel's buttocks, squeezing them firmly. "So much better."

Their kisses are heated, greedy and quick, as if afraid of lack of time. Castiel is clinging to Dean's still clothed body, shoving his tongue down the werewolf's throat and poking his crotch with his leaking, rock-hard member. His impatient "Please, Dean, oh, God, hurry up!" finally have effect on the werewolf and he stops teasing.

Spit-slicked fingers slide into the crease of Castiel's buttocks, pressing to the tight entrance, teasing it with barely-there touches. Dean had always liked hearing the change in the reporter's voice; how it would turn from deep, gravely voice into high-pitched moans, showing how much Castiel liked the werewolf's precise touches. Just like now, when Dean's three fingers are working the brunet open, stretching and preparing him for Dean's aching erection, still trapped behind the zipper of his jeans.

When Dean feels Cas has had enough, he just gets rid of his t-shirt, pushes his jeans and boxers down to his knees and hoists Castiel up, wrapping the brunet's long legs around his waist.

"You ready for a ride?" He smirks at Castiel, who looks like a disheveled bird after a rain. The reporter just moans something, grabbing Dean's shoulders more firmly. "You better hang on tight, babe!" Dean's voice sounds promising as the cheeky smile dances on his lips.

The werewolf presses Castiel to the wall, holding him under his ass and guides his dick into Castiel's burning heat. Inch by inch, step by step he slides inside 'till he bottoms out, pressing flush against the brunet's ass.

"Dean," Castiel whimpers, digging his fingernails into the muscles of the werewolf's broad shoulders. "Move goddammit!"

"You asked for it!" Dean kisses Castiel's neck, sliding out from the velvety depth only to slam back in.

Castiel screams and leaves bloody scratches on Dean's back. His eyes roll back into his head as he starts to chant something in different languages, which sound like mixture of English, French, and Italian. "Don't stop, Dean, S'il vous plait, darmi piu, per l'amor di dio!"

Dean chases after and catches every hot gasp, moan and a whimper Castiel makes with his lips and teeth, grazing and nibbling at the swollen lips before him. He savors every blinding, ecstatic sensation he feels from the rapid thrusts of his hips.

"Holy fuck, Cas," the werewolf grunts and presses his sweat covered forehead against Castiel's neck, hammering into the pliant body, as his strong hands grab the brunet's buttocks firmly, leaving marks on the smooth skin. "You haven't been with anyone after me, have you?" Dean pants as he keeps fucking the reporter at a fast and rough pace. Castiel feels so mind-blowingly tight that the werewolf begins to think that he's been single too for all these months.

"N-nno," Castiel bites his lip as Dean rams into his prostate. "I…oh god…nnnngh…I-I just couldn't…" His head bangs against the wall and Castiel shudders. "Fuck…"

"Thought so."

Dean lets out a guttural, low, and possessive growl, gathering all of his remaining strength to fuck Castiel from there to next Tuesday. He feels a familiar tightening sensation in his balls, and he closes his fist around Castiel's leaking dick, pumping it fast, flicking his wrist. Castiel just sobs out something incomprehensible and attacks Dean's mouth with a lewd moan.

"Come for me, babe!" the werewolf grunts into the brunet's ear and this is all Castiel needs to hear. He explodes, shattering into a million pieces, painting his belly with the hot splash of his seed.

"Dean…Dean…Dean…" he screams, choking on his own breath as he keeps shivering violently and clenching around the werewolf's dick.

"Right here…I'm right here." Dean's knees buckle and his heart beats somewhere outside of his body, as he makes the final, frantic thrust into the limp body in his arms, finding his release with a loud and broken cry.

* * *

The room is a mess: clothes and shoes are thrown everywhere. The air is thick; the heavy scent of musk and sex hangs above two naked, tangled bodies, which don't seem to care as they're too busy kissing each other languidly.

"How long have you been living here?" Castiel rests his head on Dean's chest, listening to the werewolf's heartbeat.

"For six months. I showed Crowley all those photos and he swallowed the bait." Dean smiles. "They seemed so realistic that he didn't have any questions. The next day I went to see him and put my gun on his table, saying that I wanted to be out of the business."

"And?" Castiel frowns, raising his head.

Dean puts his hand on the brunet's head forcing him down. "He didn't object. Though, he said it would be a great loss for him."

"Didn't he have any questions why you wanted out?"

"I told him that I wanted a peaceful life. I've always been his most loyal man, dragging him out of many troubles and I knew he wouldn't refuse." Dean caresses Castiel's dark locks.

"But didn't he have any doubts that you would set him up or something?" Castiel asks puzzled.

"No," the werewolf chuckles. "Crowley knows that secrets about his business are safe with me."

"Wow," Castiel says in wonder. "That's unbelievable. If I were him I'd still check about my target's whereabouts, just to be sure."

"He didn't have any doubts. All the local newspapers were screaming and writing articles about how you went missing and how police couldn't trace you." The werewolf presses a chaste kiss to the brunet's forehead. "Now tell me about you. What have you been doing in London?"

"Well," Castiel shifts to get more comfortable in Dean's embrace. "Anna sold the house in Lakewood after I told her everything that happened. I tried to get a job and I was able to find one, writing articles for an online newspaper. It was boring and pretty mundane but I needed money and had to agree. I thought I would be able to forget about you with time but I just couldn't. You were in my mind, heart and soul and all I could think about was your lips touching mine. It was hell. Why didn't you come look for me, Dean?" The reporter leans on his elbows, looking at Dean intently with his piercing blue eyes.

"I wasn't sure you would want to see me. Not after you refused to kiss me in the Impala," Dean says, smiling sadly at the memories. "Let's leave the sad part behind and tell me how you found me," he adds after Castiel's quiet gasp.

"Well, I remembered what you said, that you had a beach house in Santa Teresa. It took me almost 3 hours to get here from San Jose. Then I asked some random folks on the beach if they knew this American tough guy named Dean Winchester and they…they…" Castiel can't help but laugh loud.

"What are you laughing at?" The werewolf arches his brow.

"Is Wolfy your nickname? Really, Dean?" Castiel throws his head back and laughs, shaking from the power of it.

"Oh, shut up," Dean says, blushing. "It's not my fault that these stupid fucks gave me this silly name."

"Hahaha, if only they knew that you really are a big bad wolfy!" Castiel keeps cackling.

"Oh that's it! Now this big bad wolf will teach our Little Red Riding Cas how to behave!" Dean jumps to his feet, attacking and throwing the reporter over his shoulder. "Though, somehow I doubt you will complain." He smacks Castiel's naked ass and storms to his bedroom, carrying still giggling reporter.

* * *

For the next few days they don't do much except making love on every available surface in the house. Castiel loves every second of his time spent at Dean's side. He loves waking up in the loving arms around his waist, delicious morning coffee and pancakes with chocolate syrup, sitting and watching the werewolf splash and break the waves of the ocean with his strong arms. Life is beautiful here and he doesn't have to worry about anything. They have a house, quite a lot of money (Dean's and Castiel's combined savings are more than enough) and shitload of free time, which they can spend as they please.

Castiel is waking up, slowly diving out of the dream world as the morning breeze and sun's rays dance on his face, when a desperate shout and then an angry roar shakes the house.

With his heart hammering against his ribcage Castiel jolts up, trying to find his underwear, when a pissed off Dean Winchester appears and freezes in the doorway.

"What…what happened? Are you hurt?" Castiel asks with a shaking voice, afraid that his boyfriend is mortally wounded.

"Yes!" Dean almost howls, making Castiel's blood turn into ice. Fuck the underwear, no time to find it! The reporter jumps out of the bed, running towards the werewolf.

"What happened? Where are you hurt? Should I call the ambulance?" Castiel bombards Dean with the questions and begins to examine his body for possible injuries. "I don't understand," he frowns after a while. "I don't see any blood. Where are you hurt?"

"Here," Dean points to his heart. "My feelings are stomped and smashed!"

"What are you talking about?" Castiel looks at him bewildered, not understanding a word Dean is saying.

"Your damn cat!" Dean screams. "Fucker peed on my shoes! I swear I will skin the bastard!"

Castiel is unable to suppress a loud snort that erupts from his mouth, but quickly shuts up when Dean glares at him. "I am very sorry about it, Dean. Let me clean your shoes. I am sure we don't need to take such drastic measures as to skinning Mr. Atkins. We can think of something. He will not do it again. I'll make sure of it."

The brunet puts a long, toe-curling kiss on Dean's lips and wants to turn around when a strong arm wraps around his waist.

"Where do you think you're going?" Dean's voice full of need and arousal husks out.

"But your shoes…I said…I-I would clean them." Castiel has a hard time concentrating on his own thoughts when Dean's hot breath touches his ear and hands grope his bare ass.

"Shoes later, bed now." The werewolf drags the brunet towards the bed, throwing him on the soft mattress.

"This is the place where I should keep you most of the time." He hovers above Castiel's body.

The reporter just hums his agreement and wraps his arms around Dean's neck to bring him closer.

"I wouldn't really complain." He says softly, smiling into the gentle kiss the werewolf plants on his lips.

  
The End


End file.
